Chapter 15

Lines He Drew

Morning sunlight slipped gently through the curtains of the Raisinghania mansion.

For the first time in a long while, Poornima woke without fear.

She sat up slowly, careful of her growing belly, and looked beside her.

Inayat was still asleep, clutching her dupatta as if afraid she would disappear.

Poornima’s heart softened.

She leaned forward and brushed the little girl’s hair back gently. “Innu… wake up.”

Inayat opened her eyes lazily and smiled instantly. “Good morning, Mumma.”

The word came naturally.

Without hesitation.

Without doubt.

At the doorway, unseen by them, Veeresh had just walked past.

He froze.

His hand tightened around the railing.

Mumma.

Poornima smiled at Inayat warmly. “Good morning, Innu. Come, let me get you fresh.”

She helped her out of bed, guided her to brush, washed her face, carefully tied her hair, chose her dress.

She moved slowly but attentively, as if she had been doing this for years.

There was something instinctive in her touch.

Something maternal.

Something safe.

Downstairs, Veeresh stood in the hallway, the word still echoing in his head.

Mumma.

He walked toward them just as Poornima was adjusting Inayat’s collar.

“Don’t give her hopes you will snatch away later,” he said coldly.

Poornima looked up, confused.

“Inayat,” he continued firmly, “she is not your mother.”

Inayat frowned instantly. “She is my Mumma.”

Veeresh’s jaw hardened. “No.”

The little girl’s eyes filled with stubborn innocence. “She is.”

And before he could say more, she ran downstairs toward Leelavati.

The room fell silent.

Poornima stood still.

Veeresh lit a cigarette, his movements sharp.

“Don’t play with her feelings,” he said without looking at her. “She has already lost one mother.”

Poornima swallowed.

“I’m not playing,” she replied softly.

But he had already turned away.

He walked out to the balcony, smoke curling around him.

He wasn’t angry because of the word.

He was angry because of the comfort in that word.

Because attachment meant vulnerability.

And vulnerability meant loss.

He had seen what loss did.

He didn’t want Inayat to go through it again.

And he didn’t want himself to feel it either.

Inside the room, Poornima stood alone, absorbing his warning.

She understood something then.

He wasn’t afraid of her.

He was afraid of needing her.

One line:
He drew lines to protect his daughter — but in doing so, he exposed his own fear of attachment.